Ask Abby
by Azrael DiAngelo
Summary: Every week a student at Kripke High takes over the Ask Abby advice column for the school newspaper. Shenanigans ensue.
1. Snickers

A MESSAGE FROM THE GENIUS BEHIND THIS MASTERPIECE:

Ladies and gents, chicks and dicks, welcome to the Ask Abby column! Have any of the latest gossip you'd like to gab about? This is totally not the place! This column of the Kripke High newspaper is where I (at least for now), test out my unlicensed therapeutic skills and give you poor saps some advice! It may be hidden under some layers of icing and jokes, but there is some honestly good info here in here somewhere. This is completely anonymous. My name isn't even Abby! (Ask Abby is just a very catchy title, don't ya think?) Anyway, the author of this thing will change every week so you won't have time to get sick of me, (but I will try my best). You can call me Snickers. Send in your complaints, morons.

Happy Writing,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Abby,<p>

I love this column already! They had this at my last school and I absolutely loved it! I hope you get tons of letters because I can't wait to read them in the school newspaper! Who knows what dirt I can get on these other girls? It's like, I just transferred here and I'm already the odd one out. Oh well, at least the guys here are cute and the teachers are nice. The lunch isn't even that bad.

Love,

The Girl Next Door

P.S. – I like, completely forgot to ask something! Well, so far I have no complaints about anything, but I could use some info: Is Dean Winchester single?

* * *

><p>Dear Girl Next Door,<p>

Talk about love at first sight! You pack enough excitement for the both of us! Question: Have you tried out for the cheer squad? As long as you keep that peppy attitude and look sexy in a mini skirt, cheerleading should be a breeze for you. That status should also get you in to all of the cool girl cliques this crappy school has to offer. Just wear a couple tons of make-up and some transparent clothing and you should look like them. Not only that, but you'll also have Dean-o gift wrapped and at your door for Christmas. Which brings me to another question: Are you desperate? That Winchester doesn't know how to keep it in his pants. Kid's banged more gongs than Andy Gallagher. Kid's seen more pussy than that crazy cat lady down the block. Kiddo's gotten more back than Sir Mix-A-Lot. He's Bad Luck Brian. If you're looking for a one night stand though, go right ahead. If you're looking for an even better one, call me. 981-555-6809

Much Love,

Snickers

P.S. – It seems that I also forgot to _answer _your question. The jerk is single, unless he's with someone with an IQ lower than his.

* * *

><p>Dear Abby (Snickers?),<p>

Hey Snickers, you're probably not interested in any freshman problems, but I don't know who else to go to. You see, there's this party that everyone's going to, but I heard that you can't show up without a date. Getting a date isn't really the problem though. This girl asked me out and she's really nice and everything, but I'm sort of interested in someone else. He's a junior and is completely out of my league. My Dad is always hammering into my head that real men aren't fags and that I should basically be a womanizer like my older brother. But I don't want to take advantage of women and goddamnit, that guy is just…just… I've barely said 10 words to him and I think I'm sorta in love with him. But it's not like he'd ever reciprocate the feeling, so…I don't know, maybe I should just go with her? But I don't want to give her the wrong impression. I also don't want him to think that I'm not available. 'Cause I'm not. Not in a relationship, I mean. Oh god, I've been rambling, haven't I? I think I'm having some type of mid-teen crisis! Send help ASAP!

Freaking Out,

Moose in Headlights

* * *

><p>Dear Moose,<p>

Are you kidding? Of course I'm concerned about your freshman problems! How else will I get my entertainment doing this boring job for a week? You guys are cute with your friendship bracelets and crushes. Just plain adorable. First of all Moosie, there is nothing wrong with liking that guy, so get that through that silly little head of yours. We were all created equal and all that jazz. I bet this guy is devilishly handsome, funny, fun size, and has amazing taste in desserts. (Not me? Okay.) But seriously, if a pretty girl asks **_you_** out and you have **_doubts_**, something is wrong with that picture. So why don't you take a chance and create a new picture with that special guy in it? I bet he likes you more than you do. We all have a mid-teen crisis, so don't get your antlers in a twist. I had mine last week when I couldn't choose between a Triple Fudge sundae with caramel or a Triple Fudge sundae with fudge. (I chose fudge). Yes, the crisis gets to all in the end.

Good Luck,

Snickers

P.S. – No offense, but you're Dad is a great big bag of dicks.

* * *

><p>Dear Snickers,<p>

Do you have a good writing prompt in mind?

Sincerely,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear Writer,<p>

These two brothers go across the country and hunt monsters for a living. Vampires, ghosts, demons, the fucking DEVIL, you name it. They fight and fight and along the way they become friends with a couple of angels and some other people like them. The angels help them close the gates of hell and they get rid of all the things that go bump in the night. Everyone is safe, happy, and it's peaceful.

Then everything changes when the fire nation attacks.

Keep Writing,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Snickers,<p>

Why is the sky blue?

Just 'Cause,

Nicely Asking

* * *

><p>Dear Mr. Nice,<p>

The sky is blue because contrary to modern beliefs, God is a female. This means that the sky is her pregnancy test and it turned blue around the time that she decided to create Earth.

I have no idea where that came from, but I regret nothing.

You Asked For It,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Mr. Snickers,<p>

Will you go out with me?

Pretty Please,

Desperate Fangirl

* * *

><p>Dear Desperate Housewife (or Fangirl or Whatever),<p>

If this "going out" business entails me walking you out of this room, then I will gladly slam the door in your face when you do. Becky, GET OUT OF MY OFFICE! *shudder* I can feel you breathing on my neck.

Leave Me Alone,

Snickers

* * *

><p>My Darling Snickers,<p>

I'm interested in fucking the brains out of this senior at school but he's like a saint or something. He's always quoting from the Bible and talking about abstinence. He's so nice, it's sickening. He's really got a stick up his ass. Correction: A whole tree. But damn, it's a really fine ass. I wouldn't mind dipping in a holy Jacuzzi with that sweet slice of Heaven. So what do you say Snick? How do I go about riding that unicorn?

XOXO,

Naughty Babysitter

* * *

><p>Dear Naughty,<p>

If I were as religious as my family, I'd be pulling out some lines from The Exorcism right about now. Luckily, I'm not. But just for good measure, repeat after me: "The power of Christ compels me." Do you have a fetish or something? Respect the little angel. Check out Christian Mingle if you're that desperate.

X's But No O's,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Abby, Snickers… Whatever,<p>

I am literally in hell right now. My friends did something stupid and they completely threw me under the bus! I've been suspended for a week and then I have three weeks of detention when I come back. My parents are going to kill me! How do you suggest I get them back for this?

Revengefully,

Devil's BFF

* * *

><p>Dear Devil,<p>

I'm all for just desserts. Meet me at The Roadhouse after school and tell Ellen that she needs a Snickers. The steam streaming from her ears in anger should pinpoint me to your location. Then we discuss tactics. By the way, you wouldn't happen to know the drunken shmucks that trashed the trophy room, would you? That's about a month's worth of ass kissing right there. You guys are amateurs. My bros, Luci, Balthy, and I once completely _destroyed _some dumb jock that was bullying our little brother, Cas. Lucifer planted cocaine in his locker, Balthazar called the cops, and I left some gay porn at the crime scene to tarnish whatever straight, arrogant pride he had in himself. He called Cas a faggot among other **intelligent** slurs. So we taught him a lesson and expanded his colorful vocabulary. Now he knows the meaning of _"jail"_ and _"don't you __**dare**__ fucking mess with my family_". But the best thing about it was that we never got caught. Whatever you're friends did is only hitting the tip of the iceberg, kiddo. If you don't want the sky to be your limit, you know how to contact me.

Seriously,

Snickers

* * *

><p>To: Abby<p>

This is most definitely not my brightest idea, but it is not my proudest moment either. What do you if you hypothetically have developed strong emotions toward a good friend of yours? _Hypothetically speaking._

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>Dear Little Angel,<p>

Well, if these "strong emotions" toward your friend are along the same lines as love , then cross the border, mi amigo! If these strong emotions are anger though, you might want to consider what's wrong with your friend…or what's wrong with you. This is all hypothetical of course. ;)

Go Get 'Em Bro,

Snickers

* * *

><p>A FINAL MESSAGE FROM THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS ME:<p>

Okay, okay! Enough questions! I understand that your lives suck and I'm the only one that can fulfill them, but all great things must come to an end. Yup, I'm talking about Batman movies. Just let the guy rest in peace. It's bad enough he doesn't have any superpowers, but he also seems to have some type of multiple personality disorder considering the number of different actors that played him. Speaking of superpowers, it seems that I'll have to snap my fingers and disappear because my writing time is up. Word of advice, writing for the newspaper isn't too bad to cash in as community service.

OTHER ADVICE FOR THE FUTURE:

Lock the office door to keep Becky out. (Unless you're Becky. Then you just lock yourself out).

The donuts here are free. (If you take them when no one's looking). I recommend the chocolate glaze with extra sprinkles.

For those idiots that need to be told this, don't write your actual name down.

Later morons,

Snickers


	2. Trucker Cap Yoda

A MESSAGE TO ALL OF Y'ALL:

Yeah, I ain't a student, but that don't mean that I shouldn't be able to grant y'all some worthwhile advice. Please keep your cussin' to a minimum.

You Know What to Do,

Trucker Cap Yoda

P.S. – You damn well know you'll be found dead if you call me Abby.

* * *

><p>Dearest <em>Abby<em>,

It's nice to make your acquaintance, _Abby_. Well_, Abby_, my problem is that my Dad kicked me out of the house because I wouldn't show any love to his newest child. You see _Abby_, my Dad is a pathetic bastard. Mom left us so he decided to become an alcoholic man-whore and have a bunch of different kids with a ton of women. Right now I have eight siblings, counting the one that he brought home last night. I have two jobs that barely support us already, and then he comes home with another fucking kid. I am sick of this _Abby_. It's not that I don't love them Abby, because I do, so fucking much, but there's no way he can take care of all of us. I told him that and he fucking kicked me out! Said that if I wasn't comfortable enough there, that I could find my own damn place. He misunderstood me. I was just suggesting that maybe this child didn't need to live with us. Maybe we could put the kid up for adoption! God knows anything would be better than living with us, _Abby_. To think I used to be his favorite.

Feeling Lost (Literally),

Devil May Care

* * *

><p>Dear Little Devil,<p>

Damn son, why haven't you gone to a guidance counselor? Or the police? Why the school newspaper? I'm not sure how much help I can be, since I'm supposed to keep this anonymous, but I'll try. First off, what your father is doing is wrong. I'm sure that you are aware of this. This is not your fault; you're just trying to help your family. Speaking of family, my wife and I have been trying to have a kid for the past couple of years, with no luck. She really wants to raise a family, but I just can't provide that for her physically. Do you know where I'm going with this? It's not a permanent solution, but if we contact the guidance counselors, your father, and the CPS, I think we can arrange something. No child your age should have so much responsibility on their shoulders. Talk the guidance counselor and mention what I said, she'll direct you to me—we're close.

Family Don't End With Blood,

Trucker Cap Yoda

P.S. – The only reason you ain't dead where you stand is because I respect what you're doing for your family. You get a pass for cussin' this time.

* * *

><p>Dear Yoda,<p>

What makes Doctor Sexy, sexy?

Curious,

Sex in the Im—PIE—la

* * *

><p>Dear Im—PIE—la,<p>

The number of young boys that know the answer to that question and have a crush on the man (who isn't all that great), yet still insist that they don't watch the show.

(It's also his cowboy boots.)

It's A Guilty Pleasure,

Trucker Cap Yoda

P.S. - Your name isn't as inconspicuous as you think it is.

* * *

><p>Hey Yoda,<p>

Life-changing manicure you get. True, it is?

Kidding, I'm Not,

Snickers

Dear Snickers,

Who the hell told you that? Was it Sam or Dean Winchester? Tell them I'll get Dean banned from my salvage yard and Sam banned from the library. I'll also find some way to keep them from getting into the Roadhouse. See how they like it, spreading rumors like that. Damn idjits.

All Lies,

Trucker Cap Yoda

P.S. – You should work on your Yoda-speech more. It took me a while to decipher what you were asking me.

* * *

><p>Hey, Trucker Cap Yoda!<p>

I'm the new sheriff in town, or rather Queen—Killer Queen. (Get it?) Anyway, do you know anyone besides Sam Winchester that's into like, techie stuff? I would ask Dean or Castiel, but they're too occupied with each other. By the way, are they a couple? 'Cause they are just too super duper close to be just friends but I also heard that the LGBT community isn't that great over here. I don't know. Like I said, I'm new in town.

Peace, bitches!

Queen of the WWW

P.S. – I love your name. Star Wars is love, Star Wars is life.

Dear Queen,

I said no cussin' ya idjit! Balls, no one reads the fine print these days. Yeah, if ya lookin' for one of those hacker geeks, Ash (or Dr. Badass, as he likes to call himself), is your guy. The only reason some of the other kids you know are in the same grade as you is 'cause he changed their grades in the school's system. So if you want to get into some tech trouble, you go to him. Damn idjit. As for Destiel over here, Dean still has his head up his ass, so give him some time. You're correct to assume about the LGBT community, but there are a lot of nice folks here to make up for that. You have nothing to worry about.

Good Luck,

Trucker Cap Yoda

P.S. – So Yoda isn't from Star Trek? Balls.

* * *

><p>Dear Trucker,<p>

I want to go hunting with my Dad and his friends, but my Mom won't let me. She says it's not lady-like. Ugh! She wants me to do girly stuff like wearing make-up and waiting around for some loser to ask me out on a date! I know how to use a gun, but she treats me like a baby! What should I do?

Frustratingly,

Daddy's Little Girl

* * *

><p>Dear Little Girl,<p>

I think you and your mother can reach some type of compromise. Why don't you try and spend one day with your mother putting on make-up, braiding each other's hair, or whatever you women do, and then spend a day with your father doing what you want to do? Maybe your mother is just afraid to see her little girl growing up so fast.

Hope This Helps,

Trucker Cap Yoda

* * *

><p>My Dearest Trucker,<p>

Where do you stash a stolen car?

*Need an answer ASAP darling or all of bloody hell will break loose.*

You Can't See It, But I'm Bashing My Eyelashes Innocently,

Master Thief

* * *

><p>Dear Thief,<p>

Park it in your neighbor's garage.

Don't Say I Never Helped Ya With Anything,

Trucker Cap Yoda

* * *

><p>Dear Yoda,<p>

What's the meaning of life?

Just 'Cause,

Nicely Asking

* * *

><p>Dear Nicely Askin',<p>

Star Wars, apparently.

Ask The Queen of the WWW,

Trucker Cap Yoda

* * *

><p>Dear Trucker,<p>

It's been about a week and that angel, Castiel, still hasn't met my advances. What does a hot girl have to do to get a little bite of that fucking mystery meat, huh? He has to be the most fucking heavenly 6 feet of man in this God forsaken place. He's got that dark sex hair, those untouched pink lips, that sweet ass…and we can't forget about those eyes, can we? Those innocent baby blues…God, I would love to suck the life out of them. I'm getting all tingly just thinking about it. Why does he have to be such a saint? He's much taller than his pain in the ass older brother, and you know what they say about tall guys…

So I'm asking again, how do I ride that unicorn?

XOXO,

Naughty Babysitter

* * *

><p>To: Naughty Babysitter<p>

Y'all idjits need Jesus or somethin'. No wonder that kid has been walking around here like a scared sheep. You've got problems.

You Can Keep Your X's and O's To Your Own Damn Self,

Trucker Cap Yoda

* * *

><p>Y'ALL IDJITS NEED HELP.<p>

I am never volunteering to this again. You can damn well make sure of that.

*Remember what I told you "Devil May Care".*

Sincerely,

Trucker Cap Yoda


	3. Master Thief

A HEARTWARMING MESSAGE TO ALL OF YOU LOVELY BASTARDS:

I once stole the principal's desk—while he was still in his office. Don't think for a second that something similar won't occur if you threaten me in any way. You've been warned.

I Think We'll Get Along Splendidly,

Master Thief

P.S. – I may also be giving advice, but don't get your hopes up.

* * *

><p>Dear Master Thief,<p>

I've been trying to get Dean Winchester to ask me out for like, a while now, but I think he's like, ignoring me for some reason. I mean, he talks to me, but it's like once I start flirting or something, he like, just completely shuts down. Is he gay or something? Like, sometimes I think I see him eyeing that guy Balthazar but I could be wrong. Tell me if he's available, please?!

So Confused,

The Girl Next Door

* * *

><p>My Darling Girl,<p>

First of all, why in God's name are you interested in that insufferable swine? The preferences of the ladies at this school astound me. As for your inquiries, that dick Winchester is _painfully_ available. It's a miracle that he was ever _taken_—well, at least for one night. He most definitely does not show any romantic interest in Balthazar, I can assure you. By the way, who is this Balthazar that you speak so fondly of? He wouldn't happen to be a tall, well-built, blonde-haired, devilishly handsome man that ironically has the face of an angel and will gladly meet you for dinner at that extremely expensive Italian restaurant across the street at oh, say… 8, this Friday night? Oh, not the guy you had in mind? That's no problem my dear, you just think about it. Alright, back to business: Is Dean Winchester a homosexual? No, I can't say that he is. He's just ass-over-elbows, pierce-the-veil, ride-off-into-the-sunset, gay in love with my sweet, little trench coat-wearing brother, Cassie. No biggie, he's buried so deep in his closet that he wouldn't find his way out even if I handed him a flashlight.

Have Fun With That,

Master Thief

P.S. - Congrats on incorporating more "Like's" in five sentences yet speaking with a wider vocabulary than Paris Hilton ever did.

* * *

><p>My Master Thief,<p>

When will I get to ride my unicorn?

Losing The Battle,

Naughty Babysitter

* * *

><p>My Darling Babysitter,<p>

When you stop fucking asking. I can't read this bloody newspaper without having your thirsty genitals being rubbed in my face and dear God, do they reek. When will you ride your unicorn? You've asked that three times now. Good for you.

Tired of Your Nasty Shit,

Master Thief

* * *

><p>Dear M. T.,<p>

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Just Answer It Bro,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Nice,<p>

To get as far away from you as possible even at the cost of its life. Spoiler Alert: There's a slaughterhouse on the other side of the road.

Truthfully,

Master Thief

* * *

><p>Dear Thief,<p>

Got any good writing prompts?

Sincerely,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>My Darling Writer,<p>

A writer goes around asking people for writing prompts because he's dealing with writer's block. But in actuality, he just lacks creativity and initiative.

Nothing Personal,

Master Thief

* * *

><p>Dear Master Thief,<p>

How do you get to that KFC near school?

Sort of New to the Neighborhood,

Edward Beats Jacob

* * *

><p>My Darling Edward,<p>

What you're going to do is exit through the main entrance and then turn left. Turn left when you reach the curb and then again when you reach the other one. Just keep going left. You might reach your destination in a couple of years if you are man enough to stop someone for proper directions.

Good Luck,

Master Thief

P.S. – Your name made me vomit in my mouth a little.

* * *

><p>Dear Master Thief,<p>

Any advice for sneaking out to a party when you're grounded?

Answer ASAP,

M.I. Girl

* * *

><p>My Darling Mission Impossible,<p>

Well, if _I'm_ the one that's grounded, then _you_ shouldn't have any trouble going out.

I Love Twisting Words Around,

Master Thief

* * *

><p>Dear Master Thief,<p>

I asked out that guy that Snickers told me to go far and he said YES! He said that he would love to go to the party with me and that he's going to pick me up on Saturday! He smiled at me, called me Moosie, gave me a lollipop and—now that I think about it, I think I just asked out Snickers. Oh well, he said YES! Now I'm freaking out though because my brother hates him. But more importantly, I don't know what I should wear. Should I dress casual or formal? I don't really have a lot of formal stuff since most of my stuff is handed down from my brother and he lives and breathes plaid. I do have a tie though. Is that good enough? I'm just so nervous about ruining this night and I just really want this guy to like me. I don't care what my Dad thinks.

Help Please,

Moose in Headlights

* * *

><p>My Darling Moose,<p>

*SERIOUS ANSWER* The identity of Snickers was blaringly obvious so trust me when I tell you this: He's in love with you. He never shuts up about you and it honestly makes me wish I could smite myself. He's been around the mulberry bush, but by golly, I have never heard so much blabber about one person. I bet my soul that if we had limited oxygen, he would waste it to talk more about you. I swear to God, if I hear one more comment on how luscious your hair is, I will steal it—with a razor. Wear anything you want, he won't give a damn. As long as you show up.

Don't Ever Make Me Say Something So Sentimental Again,

Master Thief

* * *

><p>To: Master Thief<p>

Do you really believe that Dean Winchester is in love with Castiel?

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>My Darling Little Angel,<p>

100%. I guess thievery runs in the family, because it seems that you've stolen that brainless brawn's heart.

All Of This Unnecessary Fluffiness Is Rotting My Teeth,

Master Thief

P.S. – With that sad excuse for a name, you might as well put your real one.

* * *

><p>I'M ON YOUR TEAM…YOU BASTARDS<p>

You know who you are. I might be back to help patch your lives up into something that somewhat resembles a meaningful existence, but until that unfortunate time, I shall be off. My generous offer still stands, Girl Next Door.

Until An Uncertain Date,

Master Thief


	4. Queen of the WWW Doesn't Eat Snickers

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Guess who's back, back again? Snickers' back, tell a friend! Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back…

Who has two thumbs and just bribed a girl for her spot in the newspaper with the whole Lord of the Rings collection? This guy! Turns out that I acquired extra community service requirements during that last _incident_, (you know the one with the donkey and the string cheese). To make a story short, I'm back because volunteering for an _actual_ job is boring and unfair. Messing with you shmucks is much more fun.

Tootles,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Snickers Bar,<p>

What's your favorite flavor of pie? Mine's cherry. It's like porn for your fucking tongue.

I'm Snickering,

Sex in the Im—PIE—la

* * *

><p>Dear Mr. Sex,<p>

Oh Dean-o, is that you? I couldn't quite tell between your comparing pie to porn and that lovely name of yours. You can go fuck a cactus. Give Sammy a kiss for me, will ya?

Yours Truly,

Snickers

P.S. – No pie quite measures up to the classic taste of apple pie.

* * *

><p>Snickers You Son of a Bitch,<p>

You help me get revenge and then you rat me out? What the hell was the point of this whole arrangement if you were planning to do that the whole time? What the fuck did I ever do to you? Not only do I have a broken arm and dignity and no friends, but the principal is meeting with my parents tomorrow! I'm so fucking dead.

You're a Dead Man,

Devil's BFF

* * *

><p>Dear BFF,<p>

Maybe that'll teach you to stop seeking revenge and holding grudges. Oh, and not to trust shady people like me.

Lovingly,

Snickers

P.S. – Your greeting made me laugh. "Son of a bitch" should be my name by now, going by the number of times people have called me that.

* * *

><p>Dear Snickers,<p>

I'm going to ignore what you just said. I was kinda avoiding a question. Watch me as I avoid it again: Where's Cas been?

Worrying,

Sex in the Im—PIE—la

* * *

><p>Dear Dean-o,<p>

What do you mean where's Cas? He's not at school drooling over you?

You're Freaking Me Out and It's Not Funny,

Snickers

* * *

><p>Dear Snickers,<p>

I'm back home. But everything is wrong. I knew what I was signing up for when I did this, but I thought things would go a lot smoother than this, y'know? I didn't realize that by taking one child away, I'd lose all of them. Uriel, the newest addition to our family that I had suggested for adoption, was given to some very kind folks. But that's where the good news stops. Dad left, so the CPS took over and destroyed everything. There were just too many kids that I just didn't have enough money to support. Cas, sweet Castiel, was taken away. It's all broken now. Mike won't look at me. Raph won't stop crying. Little Zach doesn't have a clue. Balthy ran out the door and he hasn't come back yet. Anna must have snuck out to a party last night and she wasn't here this morning. She doesn't know about it and neither does Gabe and it's just fucking eating me up inside. Just this afternoon, I told Gabe that he could stay at his friend's house for the night and he asked to talk to Cas and I had to lie and say that he was at the fucking park or something. It's terrible, but it could've been a lot worse. Today is my twin brother, Michael's birthday, which obviously means that it's also mine. We're 18 years old. We're legal adults now. Imagine the chaos that would've occurred if we weren't? We don't qualify for adoption, so we can't adopt Cas back. Maybe it's for the best? We'll always be family, right?

How do I ever get my family to forgive me?

Losing Hope,

Devil May Care

* * *

><p>You Fucking Devil,<p>

You fucking bastard! You great big bag of dicks! How could you do this to us! How could betray your own family? We were _fine_! Sure, I practically lived off of the food that the school cafeteria served and we spent our weekends in soup kitchens, but we were fucking _fine._ We were _great_. I barely knew Uriel, but I bet he would've grown up just as well as the rest of us! But no, you had to go and **_fuck everything up_**! Who's left, huh? Balthazar's gone. Anna's gone. Cas—_Oh, Cas_ is-

* * *

><p>THE CAKE IS A LIE<p>

Sorry about all that guys. I didn't read what Gabriel wrote, but it was probably some of the nasty, ridiculous stuff that usually crawls out of his mouth. I was supposed to be the writer for this week, but Gabe offered some Lord of the Rings merch, and like any person with a brain, I took it. Little did I know that the books were full of blank pages, the DVD's full of Spongebob re-runs, and the posters were displaying stick figures. I feel so used. I'm here to make up for it now, but it seems that he already filled up this week's column. Oh well, I guess I'll be back some other time.

Later bitches,

The Queen of the WWW


	5. Writer's Block

UM…HI?

So apparently I'm in charge of this now.

Oh and it's Chuck. I mean I'm not **right now** but, _ugh,_ just… don't hunt me down okay?

Cowering in the Corner With Dignity,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear Writer,<p>

Got any good stories? No offense, but Mr. Singer's science class was so boring today that he managed to fall asleep while we were watching this movie about plants or something.

Until Next Time,

Brainy Blonde Bombshell

* * *

><p>Dear BBB,<p>

Mmm…rain check on that?

It's Too Early in the Morning For This,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>My Sweetest Chuck,<p>

Which is your favorite ship, Sabriel or Destiel?

Love,

Desperate Fangirl

P.S. – Sabriel is Sam and Gabe, Destiel is Dean and Cas, and aren't they all so cute together?!

* * *

><p>Dear Desperate…<p>

*sigh* Becky…How many times do I have to tell you not to ship people without their permission? I can see it all now: Sam's bitchface, Cas asking what the hell "shipping" is, you explaining it to him, Dean threatening to break my writing hand, and Gabriel standing there smirking the whole time, his mind calculating some advanced prank that he would pull when I least expected it and all I would hear is his laughter as I slowly die from humiliation—_no thanks._

Stop The Madness,

Writer's Block

P.S.- Sam's gay? Since when? More importantly, since when is he interested in Gabriel?

* * *

><p>Dear Writer's Block,<p>

You don't really write much, do you?

Seriously,

Nicely Asking

* * *

><p>Dear Mr. Nice Guy,<p>

Do to. I just don't feel _inspired_ at the moment. I don't see _you_ giving me any prompts.

I'm a Writer You Ass,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear Writer's Block,<p>

Where the hell are the Novaks? I haven't seen any of them all week. Kripke High feels so empty without them.

Frustrated,

Queen of the WWW

* * *

><p>Dear Queen,<p>

I'm not entirely sure. I know they're alive, so that's good news. I've been told not to really say anything, sorry.

It's OK,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear Writer's Block,<p>

I've been calling Gabriel the past couple of days, but either he's busy or he's ignoring me. I don't know, is it me? Did I do something wrong? Or is something going on at the Novak's house?

Getting a Little Frantic,

Moose in Headlights

* * *

><p>Dear Moose,<p>

Woah kid, don't freak out! It's not you! At least, I'm pretty sure it's not you. Huh, so you _are_ with Gabe. Interesting. Tell me, _how_ exactly did that happen? Do you share an unhealty, almost R-rated love of chocolate? Did he bribe you with it? Anyway, I'm sure they're fine and they're just busy and not ignoring you.

From the Bottom of My Fictional Heart,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear Writer,<p>

CASTIEL NOVAK SKIPPED A FUCKING GRADE?! I'VE BEEN LUSTING AFTER SOME SMART ASS JUNIOR-TURNED-SENIOR?! He's gone too far. I feel so…clean. It's like I'm dirty. I need a bad boy, stat.

Save Me From The Light,

Naughty Babysitter

* * *

><p>Dear Babysitter,<p>

You finally caught on. Someone give this girl a cookie.

Miracles Happen Everyday,

Writer's Block

P.S. – I recommend Lucifer, Balthazar, or that new guy, Benny.

* * *

><p>Dear Writer's Block,<p>

Where's Gabriel Novak? As soon as he shows his face here again, I'm kicking the candy out of him.

Seething in Fury,

Devil's BFF

* * *

><p>Dear Devil,<p>

Classified information.

He's Not Your Piñata,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear W. Block,<p>

Dude, I tried some of this new stuff that Andy gave me because he said that it would help keep me awake so I could study for tests and stuff and it was _amazing_. I had this weird dream. It was sort of confusing—really quick, different images, but I think I got the overall message: Let him go.

I think I'm psychic or something. It wouldn't happen to mean anything to you, would it? Interpret any way you want.

Best of Luck,

S.S. Final Destination

* * *

><p>Dear S.S.,<p>

Um…no, doesn't ring any bells. Gosh, what did Andy put you on? I'll put the word out on your "Male Version of 'Frozen'" message I guess.

Don't Do Drugs Kids,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>Dear Writer's Block,<p>

If you don't tell me where the fuck Cas is, I **will** find you and I **will **beat you to a pulp until I know where he is. My Dad's a cop, so don't doubt for a **second** that I haven't had him teach me how to use a gun. I **can** and I **wil**l use one if necessary.

Yes, This Most Definitely is a Threat on Your Life,

Sex in the Im-PIE-la

* * *

><p>Dear Sex in the Im-PIE-la,<p>

Cas is at Mr. Singer's house. Please don't kill me. I don't know where the rest of them are. They won't return my calls or answer the door.

Please don't kill me.

I'm Going to Pay For This,

Writer's Block

* * *

><p>I'M A GOD; A COOL, BUT CRUEL GOD.<p>

I couldn't be trusted to handle the tangled web of woes that are your lives. So I shall retire back to my original role in society: being a writer. (A far more significant role than those two schmucks Ed and Harry. _Ghostfacers?! Can you get any lamer?)_

So this is most likely my final goodbye as the writer of this column.

To those who don't believe in my writing skills, I quote Mr. Singer: "Balls."


	6. The Little Angel That Could

TO: THE STUDENTS OF KRIPKE HIGH SCHOOL

I have returned, though I am not sure if it is of much importance or not. You may ask your questions now. I'll try my best to answer them and/or help you in any way.

FROM: THE LITTLE ANGEL THAT COULD

* * *

><p>Dear Little Angel,<p>

Where have you been? It's been almost a month! It's been **so** boring: the teachers, the students, the homework, the writers of this column. They even let _Chuck_ write. It got _that_ bad without you here. We all know that the day that kid writes a full length story will be the first sign of the apocalypse. You should've seen Dean. I seriously thought he was going to end up in this yearbook as "Most Likely to Murder Someone Over Their Missing Boyfriend." The Destiel ship was sinking fast. You're the Princess Leia to his Han Solo! But seriously, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!

I'm Waiting,

Queen of the WWW

* * *

><p>To: Queen of the WWW<p>

I was dealing with what you might call a "family emergency." There were some serious financial matters in question (which I assume is somewhat taken care of now), and this seemed to result in the adoption of my younger sibling, Uriel. Child Protection Services were also apparently planning to place my brother, Zachariah in child care until our household was financially capable of accommodating all of us, but I offered to leave instead. I was placed in the care of the same people who adopted Uriel: Karen and Robert Singer. They are very nice people. I always liked that teacher.

As for Dean, I don't think he's missed me much. You see, his father is barely ever around so he and his brother, Sam, spend most of their time with Mr. Singer, who is like an adopted father to them. Dean's been visiting me every day after school and on weekends. Dean's been very, _very_ pleasant to be with.

From: The Little Angel That Could

P.S. - Destiel…I enjoy the sound of that.

* * *

><p>Dear Little Angel,<p>

Aaaaaaaw! Is Destiel official now? Are you guys a thing now?! I need details! Please?

Adoringly,

Desperate Fangirl

* * *

><p>To: Desperate Fangirl<p>

Dean is a man of privacy, though I will disclose that we spent much time watching all things "Star Wars", which is likely the only reason I understood Queen of the WWW's reference to Leia and Han. We also ate popcorn and might have done some "manly" cuddling as Dean likes to put it.

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>Dear Angel,<p>

You're lying on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the arms of the ratty old thing as you groggily watch the small television in front of you. You're making a lazy attempt at reaching for the remote on the coffee table when the doorbell rings. You freeze for a second, contemplating what few people could be visiting the house.

"Is Cas here?" A slightly husky voice says and _oh God you recognize that voice; who the hell let that voice in here._

"Yeah Dean, he's right over—" You're scrambling in the basement now, tripping over your own two feet because your new legal guardian who also happened to be your 9th grade science teacher is letting your best friend of 13 years and love of your life of 10 into the house and you just realized that you're not wearing any pants. Usually this would be fine; you sleep in your boxers whenever you stay at his house, had accidentally seen the other nude on occasion, and had even swam all natural in the kiddie pool when you were toddlers. But these are not usual or even fortunate times because you haven't seen Dean for a while and now you have the mother of all hard-ons making a tent in your boxers and _where the heck are the those pants?!_

You just finished buttoning your jeans, _(which when you think about how tight they are, is probably not the best article of clothing for your situation)_ and straightening the collar of your polo shirt when you hear a hurried set of footsteps. You look up to find a pair of green eyes and a wide smile meeting your gaze in the dimly lit room.

"Hey Cas!" He says, reaching his arms around you. You turn so he's hugging from your side and you rigidly wrap your arms around yourself like a cocoon. He backs off and gives you an odd look as you sit down and grab a pillow that you quickly _(and hopefully inconspicuously)_ place on your lap.

"So, what are you doing here?" Dean asked, repeating the action but without the hidden erection.

"I could ask you the same," you counter. You try not to notice the way he unconsciously sticks his tongue out a little when he's concentrating.

"Yeah, well one of the reasons I'm here is because Bobby's practically my second Dad," he says, sighing. "He becomes more like my primary Dad every day." Then he smiles again. "But I asked you first."

"Dean I—can you come back some other time please?" Your heart is beating a million miles a minute, and now that you think about it, that statement doesn't make any sense, but it seems appropriate considering the proximity between the two of you.

Dean scoots closer—_Dear God, he's making it worse. _"Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, it's just that I don't think—well, I do, but now is not—what I'm trying to say is—" You're babbling now. Oh dear goodness, you're sweating. You're sweating like a pig and you are aware of the fact that pigs don't sweat. You're sweating and vaguely aware that you're saying something_—probably something stupid—_and Dean has that insufferably cute grin on his face. You're pretty sure your dick deflated a long time ago. Why are you so nervous? _Oh, apparently you're holding my hand now, that's brilliant. That's really going to calm me down._ Dean you are infuria—

Dean Winchester is empty. You know it's not the most romantic way to describe a kiss, but in this case, it's the best way. When he puts his heart to it, and not just his physical body, Dean is empty. If he loves something or even more rarely, _someone_, very much, he will pour everything he is—mind, body, and soul—until there is nothing left but the freedom of choosing you above everything. You can taste it now, as his lips brush gently against your own, as if you are the world's greatest treasure.

"The other reason I'm here is because I love you Castiel."

You admit giggling a little under his warm breath as he whispered in your ear:

"How's that for manly cuddling?"

Taking a Bow,

Writer's Block

P.S. – A day in the life of Destiel.

P.S.S. - Totally Becky's fault.

P.S.S.S. - What did you think?

* * *

><p>To: Writer's Block<p>

I don't know what to say.

No, really, I can't help or answer you if you don't ask a question of some sort.

From: The Little Angel That Could

P.S. – My genitals are not that sensitive. I pride myself in my fair amount of self control.

P.S.S. - I do not "babble". That is not manly cuddling. Also, what happened to Star Wars?

P.S.S.S.-If you must know, I kissed Dean first.

* * *

><p>Dear LATC,<p>

Should I buy tickets to a One Direction concert or a Justin Beiber one?

They're Both So Good,

Susan

* * *

><p>To: Susan<p>

Dean says that One Direction is the wrong direction for you to be heading in and, "Zeppelin, all the way baby." I personally think you should go with One Direction because I like Selena Gomez and Justin Beiber, her ex-girlfriend broke up with her. She also doesn't act very lady like.

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>My Little Angel,<p>

Don't ever change. You're too hilarious and you're not even trying, are you?

This is the Only Time I'm Calling You an Angel,

Snickers

* * *

><p>To: Snickers<p>

I don't plan on it. And no, I was not trying to be humorous. Why, did I say something that can be interpreted that way?

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>-Little Angel That Could-<p>

More like little faggot that couldn't keep his mouth shut. Guess who's back, you runt. You gonna get your brothers to put me in juvie again? I'm practically a regular there now. No, I think you've gotten a bit less stupid. Now you have a dick in your mouth keeping you quiet. Huh, Dean Winchester. I used to be good friends with him—a mentor, you might say; I taught him everything that makes him tick. Yes Dean: the macho star quarterback that gets all the ladies. He thinks that by getting in a couple of chicks' pants and not giving a fuck about school makes him a bad boy. That's true. Not every guy with a brain and a dick between his legs can pull that off. But he's made one mistake: You. Dean was straight until he met you and now he's going to toss away the reputation he's worked so hard to build up. If I get any trouble from any of you Novaks, Dean's paying the full price. It would be a shame if that pretty face got ruined…or if his Dad found out about you.

What are you gonna do, sweetheart?

-Hell Sunshine

* * *

><p>To: Hell Sunshine<p>

Welcome back. I hope you enjoyed your stint in juvenile detention. I hear the weather there is nice this time of year. For starters, I'll correct your grammar:

*juvenile

*going to

*Castiel

**_Castiel_**, not** faggot**,** runt**, or** sweetheart**_ (which you can promptly remove from that last sentence and shove it up ass). _My name is Castiel Novak and although you may have just heard about it, I have been in love with my best friend, Dean, for years. It may have taken forever, (and I had to make the first move), but it was worth waiting for in the end because right now we are maybe-sort of-kind of boyfriends and I have never been happier.

In fact, this Friday Dean is taking me to TGIF Friday's as our first proper date. I've never been there before. _(I just realized that TGIF stands for Thank God It's Friday. It already sounds like such a blessed place)_. So you can take your bad boy bullshit and stick it where the sun shines because you know what? You're right about one thing. I am a mistake. But I am not _Dean's_ mistake. I am _your_ mistake. If you mess with me, you don't just get a one on one battle. No, you get me, Novaks, Winchesters, Singers, family, and friends.

And that is a force to be reckoned with.

What are you gonna do now, _sweetheart?_

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>Dear Angel,<p>

*slow clap*

Speechless,

Dr. Badass

* * *

><p>To: Dr. Badass<p>

I don't understand. Do you want me to clap slowly? What for? Is it a reference to my earlier entry? You do realize that emoticons are different in the real world, right?

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>Dear Angel,<p>

It's freezing. I can't see; I must be blindfolded. My voice is hoarse from screaming for help. I think there are trees. Oak trees. There's so many of them. They won't stop hurting me. There's a sharp pain. I see red. There's a bright white light. There are tears. I'm drowning. Then there's nothing.

It's so cold.

Another vision. 'Let him go', 'cold' and 'trees' are all I got. Do they mean anything to you?

Sincerely,

S.S. Final Destination

* * *

><p>To: S.S. Final Destination<p>

They are the delusions of someone influenced by drugs.

From: The Little Angel That Could

* * *

><p>Dear Angel That Could,<p>

Hey Cas, um…not to pop your bubble or anything, but I don't think Dean's going to be able to make it to your date. You see, Dean's been at my house. We made out, we fucked, and we've both had a little too much to drink so I think he should stay here and wait out his hangover. I just sent you a text from his phone with my address. It would be really sweet if you took him home in the morning. You understand, right Cas?

Thanks,

The Girl Next Door

To: The Girl Next Door

Oh. I understand.


End file.
